A Striking Proposition
by Phantom Dove
Summary: Malfoy asks Hermione to be his girlfriend, despite his flaming gayness. Flustered, she accepts. Harry and Ron are not pleased, nor is one Miss Padma Patil. Saucy library books make a much longer cameo than originally expected. Slash and femmeslash abound.
1. Chapter 1

"You want me to what?"

"You heard me."

"I did but I'm still in shock."

"I said, Granger, will you be my girlfriend," Draco Malfoy shifted uneasily from foot to foot. He looked disdainful; Malfoys did not do uncomfortable.

"But…why?" Hermione looked utterly bewildered.

"Well, the choice seems very self evident to me. You are an unattached female and from Gryffindor house itself. Also, you are Muggleborn which will increase the faith in my father's new 'diversity first' campaign plan. Most importantly, I need a girlfriend who won't mind that I am flamingly gay," here Malfoy struck a slightly mournful pose for the weeping masses, "Such a surprise, I know." Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had known Malfoy batted for the other team ages ago. She wondered who exactly he thought he would fool with this little scam of his.

"And what makes you think that I would agree to be with a flamingly gay boyfriend, as opposed to anyone else?" Malfoy looked momentarily taken aback, as if someone had questioned why the sky was blue or why one doesn't wear brown shoes with black pants.

"Because," he explained patiently, "you're a lesbian!" Hermione blinked.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you very much are," Malfoy's pretty face pinched into a frown. "Granger, who exactly do you think you're fooling? Your two best friends are rather fit blokes and you don't even bat an eyelash. You spend all your time in a library reading dusty tomes like there is no tomorrow and you wouldn't know a mascara brush if it swatted you on the nose, you have never had a boyfriend and," he paused to draw in a breath, as if to seal her list of crimes, "you wear flats, brown flats. They practically scream, 'Lesbian! We have a lesbian coming through!' Honestly, did you think no one had caught on?" Malfoy huffed exasperatedly. Hermione maintained her dazed expression, blinking occasionally and swaying slightly from side to side. She wondered bemusedly how anyone could ever possibly believe that Draco Malfoy was straight.

"So, will you?"

"A…a…alright," she blurted. Malfoy beamed.

All that morning, and into the afternoon, Hermione sat in the common room, buried in thought and parchment. She had thought briefly on her breakfast encounter with Malfoy but decided it could wait. It was, after all, Saturday morning and she had a Transfiguration essay due Wednesday and a Potions lab due next Friday by five. She was already behind schedule. She frowned at Parvati and Lavender who were giggling and pointing to the centerfold in _Witch Weekly_. She wondered churlishly if she was the only person in the entire school who had not become completely obsessed with the opposite sex. _Professor McGonagall's_ _Animal to Mineral Theory in 14 inches is due Wednesday!_ she thought with frustration.

After completing Ancient Runes, the Transfiguration essay, and a large chunk of the lab, Hermione reluctantly took a break. It was quarter to one and lunch ended at one fifteen. Hermione had an ironclad schedule when it came to meals. She refused to visit the kitchens and impose upon the house elves so her mealtimes were always strictly to schedule. Missing an allotted time meant missing a meal. Not a pleasant prospect. With a sigh, she stuck a mental post it note to the unfinished lab. Sometimes she really missed Muggle inventiveness.

Hermione put away most of her notes and books and quills and spare pieces of

parchment and revisions and extra resources and ancient scrolls and book bag, and headed down to lunch with only _Hogwarts, a History_ tucked under her arm. Light reading helped her digestion.

When she arrived, most of the student body was already there. Some were awake and active; others had only just woken up from their slumbers. Hermione made slight disapproving noises when she realized that Ron and Harry were from the latter group. They greeted her sleepily and stifled their yawns as she glared at them. She bet, galleons to grasshoppers, Sunday night around nine, these two would be scurrying around like ants, desperately finishing their assignments and sending vicious glares her way for not helping and for being done and, mostly, for being right. She sighed. Her boys were a handful. Malfoy's words echoed in her ears. Hermione eyed them critically. Harry was still rather short with his owlish glasses and skinny wrists. Ron was gawky and unwieldy, with a long freckled nose and long gangling arms. She supposed they looked decent enough, nothing to be ashamed of for sure. Hermione scanned the crowd. In fact, none of the boys were that attractive. Seamus Finnegan with his enormous ears and wide mouth was hardly handsome; Ernie Macmillan was much too nervous to be cute. Clarence Gerber was built like a refrigerator and Adrian Hallowspring bore a striking resemblance to a toothpick. How odd. She had never noticed before.

At that moment, Susan Bones came over and asked, quite nicely, if Hermione would lend her a tray of butter pads, Hufflepuff had run out. She was blonde, and rather nice looking, with a heart shaped face and a lovely smile. Hermione blinked. It wasn't just Susan. All of the girls were rather good looking. Not all of them were conventionally pretty, but each one seemed to have a small something about them that told Hermione that someone would eventually find them attractive. Mandy Brocklehurst had clouds of soft auburn hair and Lavender Brown had those long, long legs. The Patil twins were striking, in an exotic sort of way. Even Hannah Abbot looked cute with her round face and adorable dimples. Hermione turned her gaze to the Slytherin table, relieved when she saw Millicent Bulstrode, and thought of nothing except _That girl is gigantic. And rather androgynous._ Then she began to see how someone could find her cute in a butch sort of way. Hermione stood up. It was too much. She grabbed her copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ and fled to the one place that had always given her the answers; her beloved library.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione had always been a firm believer in books. Books held facts and theories. Books had research and ideas and history, but most importantly, books had answers. She was convinced that the explanation for almost anything lay hidden somewhere in the lofty aisles and towering shelves that made up Madame Pince's domain. So it was no surprise that when she had a troubling personal problem, Hermione turned to her infallible books.

Settled neatly on her desk, in chronological subset relevant order, were over twenty assorted leaflets, scrolls, and books. One unlikely anthology lay propped on the floor by her chair as it was too big to fit in to her organized filing system on the desk. She had thumbed through _Greet the Grooms; The Non-traditionalist's Guide to Unorthodox Weddings_; pored over _I Now Pronounce You Wife and Wife; Homosexual Liaisons Throughout History_, and was currently quirking her eyebrows at _Lasses Who Like Ladies, and Ladies Who Lust Likewise; Lissa Larange's Large Leaflet on Lesbian Love. _These books discussed lesbian affairs, politics, common misconceptions, and sex, but nowhere did she see anything to help her indicate if she was, indeed, a lesbian. The closest she came to identifying herself as gay was when she read about Agrippa the Flying Motorcycle Dyke's fondness for brown flats. S_haring the same shoe preference does not make me gay_, she grumbled to herself.

She noticed Padma Patil sitting at a nearby desk, black coiled braid piling up next to her homework, scratching away at a rather long parchment. Hermione assumed that it was Padma as Parvati would never voluntarily stay still for that long to do anything other than paint her nails. She noticed Padma's smooth olive skin, the dip of her palms, the arch of her inky eyebrows. Hermione was carefully scrutinizing the curve of that elegant neck when suddenly dark brown eyes met Hermione's own. She blushed, mortified, but those exotic eyes just smiled. Hermione turned away, bright red and stunned. _Why am I blushing? I was simply exercising my eyes; they were getting restless with all the staring in one place. I was just protecting myself from eyestrain; there is no cause for such embarrassment, _she chastened herself. But in the back of her mind in an unbroken chain, like the broken records her father had once pulled out of the basement and could no longer play,_ I'm not gay. Malfoy is wrong, I'm not gay. Malfoy is wrong, I'm not gay_, it churned furiously. _Wait, why not?_ A small voice piped up. _Why not?_ Hermione shut her eyes tightly for a moment. When the whirling migraine of her thoughts receded to a tolerable level, she returned to perusing technique number seventy eight in Madame Larange's Leaflet with a vengeance, eyestrain be damned.

Back in her bed that night, Hermione was free to ponder her dilemma. She had finished her Potions lab, finished up all her other assignments, and spent a healthy amount of time studying for her NEWTS. After all, they were only seven months away. Now, alone with her thoughts, Hermione's vast intelligence was left with no other distractions from her current quandary. She had decided that a list was best, to weigh the pros and cons of the situation. Now that she had determined that there was a situation. Hermione had decided, sometime during dinner, that she was, indeed, a lesbian. To put it simply, she was attracted to girls. Boys were fine and nice, she supposed, but they were not what she wanted. The revelation was still rather shocking to her previously conservative senses. Back in the Muggle world, her parents had always been rather silent on sexual minorities. On anything different from the norm, really. They were quiet folks, living with dental tools and books and little controversy to be seen. This made for a straightforward existence, as long as one was not faced with any controversy. At first, Hermione had been a bit unsure of her position on this newest twist in her life. But her pragmatic straightforward mind had won out and she was now the newest, if slightly dazed, inductee into the Sapphic club. Currently, Hermione was attempting to measure the effect of her newfound feelings on her conjectured life. Politics were out. Officially, wizarding law did not ban homosexuals from office, at least not since 1977, but the ill feelings towards such people were still in depressing abundance. It depressed her to note that Muggles had only ceased to categorize homosexuality as a psychological disorder that same year. Gay and Lesbian Wizardfolk could adopt children and join the Aurors, but discrimination abounded in every field. Hogwarts, being a forward-thinking institution, housed many books on homosexual history and lifestyle, but Hermione was no so naive as to believe that other establishments were so progressive. Her biggest worry was that her research, she knew she wanted to do research, would go unrecorded or unnoticed because of her sexuality. It was not unheard of, even in this modern age. _Damn you, Malfoy_, she thought unreasonably. _Damn you._


	3. Chapter 3

"Hermione!"

_Gay,_

"Hermione!"

_Gay, gay, gay,_

"Hermione?"

"I'm gay!"

"What?" said two startled voices.

"As in happy. I think we should put that word back into usage. People are so afraid of seeming homosexual that 'gay' is now never used to connotate the illustrious 'happy and gay' phrase of the Old World. I think we should give 'gay' a renaissance. I was going to make badges that said 'Gay Does Not Only Mean Homosexual, It's Also an Archaic Form of Happy,' but I couldn't fit it and 'Make Gay the New Happy' sounded too camp," she made up desperately.

"Uh," Harry began.

"Er," Ron put in. Harry looked confused but quickly began giving suggestions.

"How about 'Gay Equals Happy' with the equals being an equals sign?" he suggested.

"Or, if you like, you could fit the longer slogan by cutting it into pieces. You could use a flashing charm mixed with a sliding charm to flash it in bits. You could even change the color of each section," Harry continued thoughtfully. Hermione gave him a watery smile.

"Yeah, or your slogan could be 'Gay Means Happy You Wanker!" Ron suggested. Harry punched him playfully. Hermione pursed her lips in a mock frown.

"We're going to be late for class," she chastised lightly. As they hurried down the hall, Hermione realized what good friends she had.

_Gay, It's not just happy any more, _she thought and wondered why her life had become so confusing.

Hermione placed _Rainbow Rules; Restrictions and Bans placed on the Homosexual Wizarding Lifestyle in the Past 200 Years_ in a pile for reshelving and picked up _Accio My Man, A Gay Wizard's Guide to Dating_. She had not given up her quest for answers. Now that she had identified herself with this hitherto unrecognized part of wizarding society, she was determined to find out everything she could on the topic. She had stationed herself in the library, only coming out for meals and classes. Harry had commented that she was studying an awful lot, even for her standards and that her new campaign for G.E.H. could wait, but Ron put it down to the not so secret pop quiz that Flitwick had hinted about.

"You know she's going to do corking anyway," Ron whined in the halls. "She doesn't even need to study!" Hermione had just grinned grimly.

Much of the information she had been memorizing may have seemed pointless to an outsider, but Hermione felt reassured when she could name the date and location (1991, Stratford on Avon) of the first annual Gay Wizarding Pride Festival, the wizard who had invented and marketed the first Playwizard's Men for Men catalogue (Darryl the Deviant), and knowing when magical lube had become legal in England (May 1st 1978). These facts and tidbits reaffirmed her revelation and made her feel in control of the situation. Not that she would admit to it, as such.

It was Thursday and Malfoy seemed to have forgotten about his girlfriend, which was why Hermione was so surprised when he sauntered over to her table and lazily sat down, charming his quill in idle circles around his wrist. The last Hermione has seen him was briefly Wednesday morning. He had accosted her in the Great hall and given her an awkward pat on the arm followed by a watery smile on his way to the Slytherin table. No one had noticed except Padma Patil who had cocked her head but said nothing. Hermione arched an eyebrow when Malfoy remained quiet. He looked pleasantly surprised. _Only Malfoy_, she thought_, would consider a facial tic his own personal trademark and take it as a compliment when others employ it_. She barely restrained her eye rolling. After five more minutes of silence except for the highly irritating swish of Malfoy's quill, Hermione broke the ice.

"Finally realized that having a girlfriend requires spending time with her?" she asked a bit nastily. After all, Malfoy was interrupting her precious study time. Malfoy gave her a sulky look.

"No one believes that you're my girlfriend anyway," he huffed. "When I told Pansy she just laughed her head off and Blaise snorted into his pudding. I asked you, you said yes! Why does everyone have such trouble comprehending this?"

"It could be due to the fact that we don't do any of the things that dating couples do. We don't hold hands, we don't spend time together, we don't write each other horribly sappy notes during classes, we don't have displays of public affection." Here Malfoy looked slightly green.

"Or that we're both gay," he suggested leeringly. Hermione sighed.

"That has nothing to do with it," she said primly.

"Ah, Granger has finally admitted she likes the ladies has she?" he smirked. Hermione pursed her lips into a frown.

"Granger finally owns up to enjoying the pleasures of the fairer sex," Hermione gave him a darker glare.

"Granger finally confesses her penchant for muff diving!" he crowed even as Hermione knocked him off his chair and wrestled him to the ground with his hands covering his mouth.

"If you ever say anything like that ever, for any reason," she hissed in his ear, "I will make sure that you are never able to enjoy your own proclivities ever again." Malfoy blanched and his eyes bulged unattractively. She let him go and slid soundlessly into her seat. Malfoy righted himself and gave Hermione a look of newfound respect.

"Right, back to business. I need the rest of Hogwarts to know of our deep undying love and happy coupledom. What do you suggest?" Hermione allowed herself a brief smirk while keeping her smug satisfaction to a minimum in her inflection.

"Well, I gave you a quick list earlier and I think we should stick to a few key points. Too many points confuse the matter. I would recommend holding hands, spending a bit of time together, say once every day or two, and public displays affection every so often. I will make the list and schedule; you can work on gossip and all political maneuvering." She continued to ramble on in this vein for some time, leaving Malfoy wondering what exactly he had put into motion. He exited the library an hour later, quite in awe of Hermione's sizable brain.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ow, watch my toes,"

"I can't help it if you're standing where I'm standing."

"You are standing practically on top of me and my back is to a wall, Malfoy; where else do you expect me to go?" Malfoy sulked sullenly for a bit.

"I'm sorry," Hermione soothed halfheartedly. She didn't mean to lose her temper but Malfoy was trying her last nerve. "Let's try again. My feet here, yours over there." Malfoy huffed but did as he was told, placing his feet intertwined with hers. It was 1:12 and lunch ended in three minutes. Hermione had dragged the reluctant blond away from his bangers and mash and has strategically positioned them in a semi-secluded looking corridor that was actually a main thoroughfare. Students headed towards the Greenhouses would find Hogwart's most unlikely couple en flagrante. Sort of. Hermione had determined that if two notoriously unfriendly rivals were caught snogging, gossip and rumors were sure to fly. And if they continued their charade convincingly, perhaps their friends would be more easily convinced. And the most convenient way to start rumors was to give them something to talk about. It was for that reason that Hermione was standing pinned up against the wall next to a portrait of Osgood the Unreasonable, Malfoy's arms resting lightly on her shoulders, fingers taping an uneven tattoo on the stone behind her. Every so often, he muttered under his breath, little fragments such as 'ridiculous' 'backward is my worst angle' and 'stupid Mudblood'. Hermione decided to let his vulgarity pass. Instead, she chastised,

"Malfoy, boyfriends do not put their hands on their girlfriends' shoulders. They wrap them lovingly around their waists. They do not look at their girlfriends as if they are slavering beasts ready to take a piece out of their leg. They gaze lovingly into their eyes. Calm down. Close your eyes. When you feel ready, you can kiss me. Don't worry," she soothed again when he looked distinctly nauseous at this last bit of information, "we are going to be 'caught' very soon so this will be over before it's even begun. Malfoy," she wheedled again when he remained motionless and continued to sulk and mutter under his breath. Finally, he took a deep breath, pouted, sneered, then swiped one hand down carefully, aiming, she supposed, for her waist. When his palm finally reached its destination, it held so soft a touch that Hermione was unsure if it was actually making contact with her hip. The other hand remained resolutely pressed to the wall.

"I don't bite," she reprimanded. "Come on Malfoy! We don't have all day." It was 1:14. He gave her a scorching look.

"I don't want to ever, even by accident, touch your girly bits," he finally explained in a rather petulant tone. He sounded so serious and vexed that Hermione had to hide a grin.

"They don't bite either," she snickered. Malfoy looked disgusted and slightly revolted. He opened his mouth to unleash a scathing comment when Hermione heard the lunch crowd beginning their chaotic exodus to class. Knowing that she had to act quickly or lose her nerve, Hermione reached upwards and hauled Malfoy's face to her own. Their noses bumped awkwardly but she hung on, determined to do this properly if she was going to do this at all. Anxiety, she supposed, caused Malfoy to tighten his grip on her waist to an almost painful measure. She held firmly to his chin and received her first kiss. It was wet. And rather uncomfortable. He bit her tongue. Students began to flow past, some stopping to gawk and point. Hermione broke off mid-snog and looked over Malfoy's shoulder. His friends were looking outraged. Pansy's bulldog cheeks were pulled taut over her face in a pursed frown and Theodore Nott's eyebrows seemed permanently stuck above his hairline. Hermione supposed they really hadn't believed he would go through with it. Other students also seemed confused and slightly unnerved. Padma Patil glanced over through the crowd, staring incredulously at the duo before blinking her impossibly wide eyes and walking down the corridor at an unassuming, slightly melancholy pace. Hermione blushed embarrassedly and nudged Malfoy. He pushed off from the wall and turned, getting a good look at the murderous faces of Harry and Ron. He gulped, gave her a brief farewell smirk, and fled the scene. It seemed their plan had been a success.

"You and Malfoy?"

"No, Ron," she began.

"No, Hermione, Ron is right. We need to talk," Harry interrupted. The trio was piled into an abandon classroom, Ron and Harry bunched together in front of the door, Hermione standing a few feet away from the raging duo. Hermione scanned the rest of the room hopefully but escape was not in the cards. All the desks were in a jumbled pile in one corner and the room's sole source of light was an ancient window with cracked casing and the remains of the curtains hanging from rusting hooks like shredder streamers. The boys had snatched Hermione while she was leaving Ancient Runes, pulling her into this dilapidated room for a bit of privacy. Ron looked confrontational, red hair slightly static. Harry looked worried and hurt, his green eyes adorably confused, like someone had pulled a rug out from his feet and he was still looking for up, but not quite angry. Not yet. He collected himself and gave Ron a nod to continue.

"You and Malfoy?" Ron repeated. Harry seemed to realize that Ron was beyond interrogation skills.

"There never was a Gay Equals Happy campaign, was there," he stated perceptively.

"You and Malfoy!" Ron continued, a slightly hysterical note creeping into his voice.

"When were you planning on telling us?" Harry continued, the calm façade barely wavering.

"You and Malfoy? Malfoy!"

"Enough Ron! Yes, Malfoy and I. We've been together for about two weeks now. He asked me out last Saturday."

"He asked you out?" Ron asked incredulously. Even Harry looked surprised.

"Yes," Hermione said waspishly. If her best friends couldn't handle her dating an unpopular (in their eyes at least) boy, she couldn't imagine how they would handle her dating a girl. She was stung and resignedly bitter. "He asked me out."

"And you said **yes**?" Ron continued.

"Apparently," she bit back. "Forgive me; I was unaware that my dating habits and candidates were under your inspiring authority. The next time I am inconveniently asked out while not in your presence, I will be sure put my plans on hold until I can consult your prodigious opinion on the matter," she spat out acerbically.

"But Malfoy," the redhead plowed on, regardless of her chilly stance and aggressive vocabulary.

"Is none of your business," she concluded. Ron looked ready to burst. "Goodbye," she concluded. Harry was forming a semi-permanent worry line between his eyebrows. Hermione pushed past her friends and stalked out of the room, rattling the doorframe as she slammed the door.

Later on, after sitting with Malfoy at dinner and skulking in the library until lights out, Hermione wondered why she had been so defensive of Malfoy. All during dinner, she had sat quietly with a face as expressive as marble, ignoring the jeers and taunts of the Slytherin crowd. Eventually they slacked off when she continued to take absolutely no notice of them. By the end, there was even an air of slight respect for someone who had not left in a bundle of tears after their dinner barrage and who was, after all, dating their prince. Ron and Harry had been twin balls of fury at her defection. She had ignored them and hidden in the library.

Hermione was still unsure why she had defended Malfoy to Ron and Harry. She didn't like him, not romantically. Not in anyway really. He was rude, pushy, haughty, and unbearably snobbish. Perhaps it was the fact that he was gay. He was like some tenuous connection to a community she had no other link to. Perhaps it was that he knew of her orientation and was perfectly accepting of it. There was no awkwardness in that regard. Perhaps it was that she really was becoming fond of the towheaded brat. He was no better in his attitudes and prejudices; he certainly hadn't cleaned up his vocabulary. However, Hermione now saw many of his behaviors as teasing and playful banter, not as openly hostile as she had once believed. In the past few weeks she had gotten to know him better and it pushed all her buttons to see her own friends judging him based on their preconceived notions. Also, this year he had been slightly more bearable; since their 'relationship' began, his insults had become more teasing than cruel. The more she thought about it though, it was more the fact that Harry and Ron had not even waited for an explanation, only exploded and raged, ignoring any and all comments she made.

Hermione supposed she could have told them better, before everyone else, not shoving it in their faces with no time to react. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She knew she had some explaining to do. When another sigh, she stood up from her desk, letting her cramped legs regain some feeling before packing up her remaining books and exiting the library. She resolved to tell them the following evening.


	5. Chapter 5

She still hadn't told them the truth. It was Monday and the student population was trying to wake up from its weekend-induced hibernation. Ron regarded his eggs grumpily and Harry looked blearily into his oatmeal. Three nights ago they had spent the entire afternoon questioning Hermione on her new relationship until she thought she would shoot the both of them, if only for a few minutes of silence. It looked like they hadn't slept yet. Knowing them, Hermione guessed that they were planning some sort of espionage to get her to fall out of love with Malfoy. If only they knew how unnecessary their plans were. She sighed. So many times that night, she had been forced to swallow the words that wanted to bubble forth from her lips. _It's not real. I'm not really dating him. It's a cover for him, for me. I'm gay. I'm sorry. Don't be mad. I'm gay. _She picked at her pancakes disinterestedly, swallowing the sticky mixture with slight revulsion, wondering if the flapjacks had always been so disgusting, not letting her brain process any farther or tread the now familiar pathways of worry. She discreetly spit out the pancakes and picked up an apple. It tasted marginally better.

Hermione kept glancing over to the Ravenclaw table, hoping to catch Padma's eye but the raven black head never turned around. Occasionally, her striking face came into profile but she never even glanced toward the Gryffindor table. Eventually Hermione averted her eyes guiltily, knowing that she had been staring but almost unable to help herself. She allowed her gaze to travel across the Great Hall, catching Malfoy's gaze. He smirked knowingly. _How could he know? How in Heaven's name could he know? Damn him. Damn all perceptive Malfoy spawn_, she thought crabbily. Hermione heaved a sigh and pulled her knapsack onto her back. If she hurried, she could grab another ten minutes of studying before her first class.

Hermione's quick study session never materialized. Instead, she had run into Pansy Parkinson who, not unlike Harry and Ron, was quite displeased with her. It seemed that Malfoy's friends had not been as impressed as she had thought at dinner. After dodging questions and well aimed fists, Hermione had just made it to History of Magic before the bell rang. It was now her break period, two free hours to review her NEWTS, study for finals, preview next weeks material, and continue her research into all things queer. Not fifteen minutes into her study session, the queerest specimen available ambled over to her desk, pulled out a chair with a flourish, and flopped down next to her.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Malfoy purred seductively. Hermione clamped down on her reflexive eye-rolling. She was getting frighteningly good at this.

"Can I help you?" she asked agitatedly.

"You're my girlfriend. You said we needed to spend more time together. You scheduled this time for us to deepen our couples bond. Remember?" Hermione let out a small growl in the back of her throat.

"So I did," she ground out. Malfoy gave her an odd look.

"Are you alright?" he questioned tentatively. "Usually you are not so…"

"Hostile, belligerent, argumentative, ornery, curt?"

"Bitchy."

"Argh! I'm fine. I'm just…tired." Malfoy eyed her warily. He had not forgotten how piqued she could become. He leaned forward on to the balls of his feet. If she became violent, he was prepared to spring out of her path as quickly as possible.

"Right," he started, slightly disbelievingly. "Wait, is it that time of the month," he began,

"because if it is,"

"Malfoy! Knock it off. Just…leave me alone. Please. Now." Malfoy didn't argue. He seemed to know better for once.

"Well, later Granger," he attempted and strutted out of the library. Hermione continued to look morose. Although she was loath to admit it, most of her melancholy stemmed from a one Miss Padma Patil. She had allowed herself to develop certain feelings for certain lovely and intriguing ladies, and now that said feelings had been squashed by her plan for helping Malfoy, she felt just a little bit bitter. Hermione also missed the insightful and sometimes corny commentary from her two best friends. _Sometimes,_ she thought with a vulgarity Malfoy would have appreciated, _life's a bitch._

She apologized to Malfoy the next day. Remaining angry at someone without justification was something Hermione frowned upon. Malfoy had first looked stunned, and then held her hand all the way to class. They were in a widely traversed school corridor so Hermione didn't know if the hand-holding was for her sake or for their charade, but seeing as there were only a few first years floating around, she hoped it was for her. Even if they were both gay, Malfoy was still the fittest bloke in school.

She had also gotten up the nerve to speak with Padma. Upon entering the library, instead of heading directly for her table, (Honestly hers. First years were warned away every year and Ron had charmed a little plaque that said 'Mione's Spot, Move It!') Hermione had detoured over to the Indian witch.

"Hi," she had begun.

"Hello," Padma returned rather coldly. Her entire body was radiating displeasure, her gracefully neck taut with corded muscle and veins.

"Wait, please listen. Please, allow me to explain," Hermione continued, desperate to elucidate the situation.

"I think everything is quite clear," Padma retorted shortly, pursing her full lips and looking pointedly back to her assignment. Hermione was filled with a sudden steely determination. She had had enough of this farce. It had been amusing for a time but now, with her own happiness at hand, she dropped the play-acting like she would a gold-crazed niffler.

"I'm not dating Malfoy," she stated boldly. Padma didn't look up. "I was never dating Malfoy." Padma snorted derisively. "Malfoy's gay." Padma turned slightly and raised an inky eyebrow as if to say 'but of course'. "I…I think I'm gay too." Both of her eyebrows shot up at this.

"Explain," The Indian girl had demanded.

And Hermione had, much to her own relief. Which explained in turn the current butterflies in her stomach, the giddy stupid look on her face, and the tingly feeling on her lips from where Padma had kissed them. It was hours later and Hermione had not gotten any work done. She sat, surrounded by books and assignments, waist deep in work, unable to complete any of it, oblivious to her surroundings. Her pigeon feather quill was hidden under her left sleeve, perched precariously on the edge of the desk but she made no move to retrieve it. Even her piles of books were slightly lopsided, one was working on a dog-eared page from her other arm, but she took no notice. Her friends would understand, she knew it. She and Harry and Ron had always stood by each other in everything. Deep in her heart, she knew that they would come to accept this newest twist in their road the way they had accepted everything else. The library was closing in five minutes and Hermione had made up her mind. She smiled angelically and headed for Gryffindor.


	6. Chapter 6

Five flights of stair and a trick doorknob later, Hermione had clambered into the boy's dormitory. She pulled Harry's curtains first, not surprised to find him still awake. He looked startled to see her but agreed when she gestured silently for him to climb into Ron's bed. Ron was snoring softly. They both clambered in and Harry clamped the curtains shut. Hermione charmed them still with a powerful soundproof spell. Then she shook Ron awake.

"VISECOUS WALNUTS! UP TO OUR EYEBALLS IN WINDMILLS!" he bellowed. Then he woke up. "Harry, what… 'Mione, huh?" he slurred confusedly.

"Yes, I'm here, look Ron, we need to talk."

"Talk? Here? Now? Well, yes, I suppose, if you insist," Ron seemed to shake off his sleepiness when he realized who exactly was kneeling by his torso. He blinked at Harry who was perched awkwardly on the redhead's ankles, blind eyes peering myopically towards his two friends.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Harry asked quietly.

"Well Malfoy and I are not, exactly…"

"You finally found out about his cheating ways and flaming gayness?" Ron asked rhetorically. Hermione blinked. "Or not. I guess Harry didn't get that far. We don't even know for sure, it could have been before you two were, ah, yeah," Ron backpedaled furiously. Harry rushed to fill the soundproof silence that filled their makeshift conference room.

"I think, we think, thought, you should know," Harry took a beleaguered breath in an attempt to ground himself in some stable reality. "Malfoy may not have been as… faithful as you thought he is, was, uh um," he concluded. Hermione stared impatiently, waiting for the reasoning behind the madness. She had been expecting to be the one revealing secrets, not the other way around. Now she wanted to get to the bottom of this.

"It might be better if we just show you," Harry fumbled. He stumbled out of Ron's bed and rustled around in his trunk for a minute or two. Ron looked sheepishly at his quilt, picking at a loose thread when Hermione tried to catch his eye.

Harry returned, looking as if he had fallen run into the bedpost a time or two in the process. He blinked furiously and handed a black and white wizarding photo to an astonished Hermione. Enshrined in the photo were two blond boys, avidly making out. Upon closer examination, Malfoy could be seen being ravished by a thoroughly tousled Zacharias Smith.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Harry consoled.

"I always knew he was a ferrety git," Ron began, obviously trying to redeem himself.

"No, it's alright. I know. I mean," Both boys looked quite understandably confused. "I mean, I know he's gay. I didn't know he was with Zacharias."

"But he's,"

"Your boyfriend," Ron finished with a distasteful shudder that he could not quite disguise.

"Actually, he's not. I mean, I'm not. I mean I am. I mean he and I," she pinched her hair nervously and regrouped. "I'm not dating Malfoy. I never was dating Malfoy. I know Malfoy is gay," here she paused.

"Why?" said Harry in a small voice.

"What the hell? What in Merlin's name made you, what in what hell damn thing, hell, hell damn why, hell?" Ron added for good measure.

"Well, it wasn't so difficult," she hemmed. "He wasn't a bad boyfriend." Hermione knew she was stalling now, and not making much sense while she was at it. Ron looked completely befuddled. "And it wasn't a hardship for me… much," she continued wildly.

"Hermione, you're not making any sense," Harry interrupted. "What's going on? Seriously. Because you're not telling us the important bits," He looked the bedpost soulfully in the grain, blind eyes pleading. He had lost track of the people some time earlier and every time he looked up, he found a different colored blur to focus on. Damn Harry. Damn him for being right.

"It's just that," here she took a deep fortifying breath. _Now is the time. Now is it, come on Hermione,_ "I'm gay." _Ouch, too blunt, too blunt_. Her mind recoiled at the utter lack of finesse of her previous statement. That had certainly not come out the way she had imagined it in her head. Ron's eyes bulged and he leaned back quickly into his pillows. Harry looked incredulously at the gap in the curtains. There was utter silence. Hermione wondered why even the wildlife had been shocked into brooding silence when she remembered her silencing charm. Harry started at the sudden noise of Ron having a sudden choking fit, the motion pitching him off Ron's ankles and onto the floor with an unheard thump. Ron sat up wildly at the loss of weight on his legs and yelped as the lack of blood circulation caught up with him. Hermione winced as one of Ron's pointy elbows grazed her temple on its way to massage the injured legs. Harry climbed into the bed again, swaying drunkenly by both his fall and the newly imparted information. Hermione skillfully resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

She let out a sigh of long suffering, glad that the entire thing was off her chest, but resigned to the fact that this would take quite a bit of explaining. In Hermione's humble opinion, it was worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione was walking on air. Heaven was several clouds below her. In her delight, she charmed her schedule to sparkle purple and blue, Padma's favorite colors, and swirled the gradients into girly heart shapes. She felt like someone had cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ on her heart, it was soaring with the winds. Her friends were supportive, albeit still a little dazed from her revelation. She knew they in time they would joke about the whole thing. Hermione waltzed down the hall, Padma's face drifting before her eyelids. Everything was going right for a change. In her complete and utter happiness, she bounced right into Malfoy.

"Opps." She giggled.

"Opps?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry?" she volunteered, "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Silly me, my fault. Opps."

"Are you completely gone?" he questioned sardonically.

"Maybe," she grinned.

"Ah, the Patil girl," he said knowingly.

"You always know," she said mock-angrily.

"I am perceptive that way. Which you are not," he countered.

"In what way?"

"Me, Zacharias Smith, the broom cupboard, the east stairwell, the whole bloody school,"

"Lucky you," she retorted, "but I knew already." Malfoy looked shocked.

"How?"

"Oh, I have my ways," she smirked in a frighteningly Malfoy-esque manner.

"I'm sure you do," he huffed quietly. Hermione saw a shadow which reminded her of Padma's hair and went back to smiling her dreamily distant smile.

"You, Miss Patil, the library?" he queried.

"Uh huh," she affirmed. "And everywhere else is no longer safe."

"Lucky girl," he smirked, "And I mean you," Hermione swatted his arm. Malfoy assumed a look of deepest hurt. Then, without warning, in his most gentlemanly manner he bowed formally. "Mademoiselle Hermione, please be my escort to dinner?" he requested, holding his arm out dramatically. Hermione mock-swooned. "Wait, take the other arm, this one hurts too much," he amended.

"You'd better watch it or you won't be able escort me at all. And what will Zacharias think?"

"The same thing Miss Patil is thinking."

"Ah." Perhaps things would work out after all.

"To dinner then?"

"Ah, yes," and the silly smirk returned.

As they walked into the dining hall, Padma gave Hermione a discreet wink and licked her lips. Hermione grinned happily as shivers slid down her back. Idly, she wondered how long exactly it took to eat one's bangers and mash. One more look at that swan-like neck confirmed her suspicion that fifteen minutes were fifteen too many. Malfoy's seat was already conspicuously empty along with the seat of one Mr. Zacharias Smith. Snape's laboratory could no longer boast that capacity. Three point four minutes later, Hermione dashed out of the Great Hall in pursuit of Padma who had mysteriously vanished not twenty seconds earlier. Ron and Harry shared a communal commiserating shrug as if to say 'lesbians'. They were taking it all quite well. Pansy stabbed her potato and schemed.

As irony smiled down upon her, Hermione beamed in sheer happiness at the quixotic paradise that had become her life. To her utter delight, Padma smiled back.


End file.
